


Confection

by syllogismos



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism-Free, Creepy Fluff, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-12 00:02:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/804779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syllogismos/pseuds/syllogismos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each groan that escaped was another square inch surrendered, until Hannibal was the sovereign of a whole country, wide and far-reaching, of Will’s submission.</p>
<p>Hannibal took what was surrendered to him and gave pleasure back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confection

**Author's Note:**

> For two prompts on the meme, [one requesting belly kissing](http://hannibalkink.dreamwidth.org/1375.html?thread=958559) and [the other requesting vanilla Will/Hannibal sex](http://hannibalkink.dreamwidth.org/1375.html?thread=1064287#cmt1064287).
> 
> Detailed Warnings: Very mild dom/sub undertones (perhaps) and creepy just in the way that _everything_ Hannibal does is a little creepy.

Will feels the change as he’s rolled from his front to his back by a pair of steady hands. He feels the change in the sensation of light on his skin. The insides of his eyelids, dark and blank before, now glow blood-red. The clouds of earlier have been burnt away, and the sunlight is warm, too, a mellow warmth that trails after long-fingered hands—Hannibal’s hands—as they work: smoothing sweaty curls back from his forehead, tickling purposelessly over his lips and down his neck, retreating and returning with a warm washcloth that swipes at his belly and then nudges between his legs to wipe away excess lube and escaping semen.

* * *

 _"I don’t know what you_ want _from me."_

_"I don’t want, Will– I don’t want to take_ from _. I want to_ give _."_

_“Why?”_

_“Why not? Don’t tell me you believe you don’t deserve it.”_

_“That’s not it.”_

_Hannibal’s next words were in his ear. “Isn’t it?” he said, and the puff of air from the final ‘t’ skittered across ridges of cartilage and made the hair at the back of Will’s neck prickle. “Prove it to me, that it’s not,” he added, and his lips grazed the edge of Will’s ear and then made contact behind it, trailing soft, wet kisses down to his shirt collar._

_“How?”_

_Hannibal’s fingers had come to the top button of Will’s shirt, but they stilled at the question. “Surely you aren’t–”_

_“No!” Will stepped back, but Hannibal didn’t let go, only slid the first button from its hole as Will’s back met the wall, and they both stopped. There was nowhere further to go except inside each other, underneath clothes and habits and defense mechanisms._

_“Let me,” Hannibal commanded, freeing another button and sliding two fingers in to touch skin and trace the outline of a jugular notch. “Let me gift you something. Pleasure. Release.”_

* * *

The sweat is cooling quickly on Will’s skin now, despite the sunlight. The temperature transition tightens his nipples and raises goosebumps down his arms, and those two sensations bring his mind and his body back together—an ugly, hasty, uncomfortable welding. He opens his eyes and receives a kiss for his effort. The kiss is just clinging lips, and no other parts of their bodies touch until lips separate and Hannibal slides down his body, apologizing when the top of his thigh chafes Will’s just softened and still painfully sensitive cock. Hannibal’s own cock is still half-hard, slow to wilt after his orgasm, and it’s a hot brand against the inside of Will’s left knee when Hannibal finally settles, resting his cheek next to Will’s navel.

* * *

 _Stripped bare and facedown in Hannibal’s bed at five-thirty in the morning with the rising sun painting the cloudy sky in washed-out watercolor hues: this was not where Will expected to be. Ever. But he agreed because he was too tired_ not _to, because Hannibal’s fingers were delicate but steel-strong, and they actually felt like they_ belonged _where they were, reaching deep inside him. Each groan that escaped was another square inch surrendered, until Hannibal was the sovereign of a whole country, wide and far-reaching, of Will’s submission._

_Hannibal took what was surrendered to him and gave pleasure back. He eased inside, slowly, nudging Will’s legs apart with his knees, pulling his hips up just enough, and then taking hold of Will’s cock, coaxing it back to hardness even as he pushed further inside. Hannibal’s lips counted Will’s vertebrae, and his cock warmed muscle and blood from the inside out, a flowing bloom of heat unfolding deep inside. It was demanding, too, when Will could spare a thought for the feeling of invasion and tightness, but most of the time he couldn’t. His mind was too full of the push and pull like waves rolling in to crash and then retreat on a deserted beach. The rhythm changed gradually, increased in speed and force until Will had to put out an arm to brace himself against the headboard._

_Hannibal held Will’s cock and stroked it and teased it and tortured it oh so delicately, and when he felt Will come apart underneath him his teeth grazed the nape of Will’s neck, and it could have been accidental. He allowed Will to sink then, allowed him to melt flat onto the bed even as Hannibal still moved inside him._

_It was a new kind of liberating, taking another’s pleasure directly, feeling it spill hot inside a place he’d never even touched himself. And the accompaniments of the delivery were breathtaking: Hannibal’s hips pressed hard against his ass, Hannibal’s chin tucked over his shoulder, Hannibal’s breath wet and desperate over the skin under his jaw._

* * *

Hannibal’s breath tickles in Will’s navel, and Will squirms. Hannibal raises his head, but not to look up at Will. He watches Will’s heartbeat in the jumping skin of his stomach, and his hands move over hips and waist to frame Will’s middle. The first kiss lands a couple of inches to the right of Will’s navel and a couple of inches below it. It’s an open mouth, a tiny bit of suction, and a swirl of tongue, and then it moves over to the left and repeats itself. A spiral of barely-there pecks interspersed with gentle tugging nips curls in from above and ends with the tip of a tongue wiggling into his navel, which is strange and suddenly too much. Will pushes up onto his elbows to look down at Hannibal, and Hannibal tilts his head up, his chin pressing hard into tensed stomach muscles.

“What are you doing?” Will asks.

“This is your soft underbelly.”

Will narrows his eyes at the cryptic answer, but Hannibal’s attention is already diverted. He’s turned back to tender, sunlight-starved skin and smoothed over it with his uncalloused hands before applying his mouth again to caress and taste. Will sinks back flat on the bed before Hannibal pauses again to speak.

“I’m making you take pleasure in your vulnerability,” he speaks into skin. “It’s my gift.”

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. I'm looking for a Hannibal fandom beta reader, if anyone's interested. I've got another half dozen meme prompts bookmarked and more importantly an idea for a longish fic (AU set in the _Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?_ / _Blade Runner_ 'verse) that I'd love to have a reader for, although it'll likely be a months-long process, as I'm not a fast writer when it comes to longer things. If you might be interested, ping me at [my fandom e-mail](mailto:utres.inflati.ambulamus@gmail.com).
> 
> EtA: I think I've found (a) beta(s), so ignore the above unless you happen to be particularly enthusiastic re: the Philip K. Dick-setting AU and familiar with the Dick canon(s).


End file.
